


Promises

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Ballet, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Human AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 06:58:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8194732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The choice was clear to Alfred. He had made a promise and he was not one to break them, especially when made with Francis Bonnefoy.





	

 

            Alfred went on runs every morning. He had started back in his sophomore year of high school and the habit had stuck. In warmer weather it was more of a jog and in colder it was more of a sprint. Today, it was a mix of the two.

            He started at his dorm room building, the foreign studies and languages living learning community otherwise known as the ‘global hall,’ before he went around the edge of the campus, in front of the library, behind main dining hall, out into the center of campus, before finally ending up in front of the large fitness center where he would spend about an hour in every other morning. On Tuesdays and Thursdays he had a morning class and so he found himself at the fitness center after lunch.

            Today it was Friday. He only had one class around two later in the day. No one appeared to be awake yet as he approached the front doors wiping sweat from his forehead. He said nothing when the doors wouldn’t open, even with the swipe of his campus I.D. card.

            The doors were locked; the lights on the inside were on in one of the open floor rooms generally set aside for the dancing class freshmen took to fill their physical education requirement. It was always dance or swimming, unless they actually played a sport.

            He walked around to the side doors swiping his card there to hear the confirmation beep and the click of a lock. He opened the door, his glasses fogging up at the cool blast of air. Music filled the space as did a now blurred moving blob of brown, white, and blue.

            He quickly took off his glasses wiping them on the edge of his shirt to get rid of the condensation. He watched in silence as a man danced in perfect sync to the music playing. Alfred recognized it as ballet, it was hard not to, the fluid movements captivating and seemingly flawless.

            The music ended as did the dance. The other looked frustrated murmuring under his breath. Alfred began to clap, the other jumping in place not realizing he had an audience.

            “Sorry! Didn’t mean to startle you or anything, but that was amazing!” Alfred called over from the doorway, finally moving further inside.

            The other smiled at the compliment hand over his chest. He had barely worked up a sweat the only telltale signs of his previous activity being his deep slightly heaving breaths.

            “Thank you, and it is alright. I am simply not used to having company,” he confessed. “People normally do not come over on this end of the fitness center unless it is for a class.”

            “Is that so? I normally don’t myself, but that’s because I normally go right for the machines on the other end,” Alfred rubbed at the back of his neck a nervous smile filtering onto his face. “The front door wasn’t opening even with my card, so I used this entrance instead.”

            “I wouldn’t know, I always use that entrance,” he motioned to the door Alfred had come through. “But, that is beside the point; where are my manners? It is nice to meet you.”

            “Yeah, ditto! Name’s Alfred, I’m dual majoring in political science and Japanese,” Alfred stuck out a hand, which the other took with a firm shake and squeeze.

            “And I am Francis, majoring in psychology with a minor in gender studies,” he seemed to study Alfred after he spoke, eyes guarded. “I was going to ask if you were a freshman, but you are on the football team, are you not?”

            “I’m a junior and if you mean soccer team, then yes. I’m our team’s goalie,” Alfred let out a somewhat nervous laugh. “You might have heard my name around campus.”

          “I have, you have such an odd last name for someone who isn’t white, Mister Jones,” said with a playful grin. His breath had evened out for a while, feet and legs moving one at a time in order to stretch.

            “I could say the same thing about you, sounding French. Last time I checked the franks were caucasian Germanic tribes.”

            Francis gave off a mock gasp, hand going up to cover his heart, “You wound me, but if you must know, imperialism often raged its ugly head in the past, including the scramble for Africa in the 1800’s. You know how it is.”

            “Someone who actually remembers something from their high school global history class, a miracle,” Alfred threw his hands up in mock exasperation grinning as Francis began to laugh.

            “Thank you for that Alfred, exactly what I needed as a pick me up after that terrible routine.”

            “Terrible?” Alfred’s eyebrows shot up under his bangs. “Terrible? It was incredible! You looked absolutely amazing Francis, it was honestly captivating how you looked so at ease with all of the motions.”

            Once again the almost shy smile Francis had when Alfred first made his presence known was on the others face, his cheeks coloring ever so slightly. He shook his head looking away in embarrassment. “Yes, I suppose to someone who does not dance it looked perfect, but there were many things I did wrong.”

            “And that’s why you practice,” Alfred quickly butted in pounding one of his fists into his other open palm. “It’s okay to make those mistakes now. You’re practicing and it’s only seven thirty in the damn morning. Better to make them now then when you are in a competition or performing on stage. I was your only audience, and you impressed me, so you did what any performer is supposed to do.”

            Francis didn’t say anything at first. He looked at Alfred, through Alfred, trying to find something unknown to the taller.

            “Thank you.”

            It was said quietly, resolutely. Alfred smiled once again Francis doing the same moments later. Alfred’s smile, his happiness and joy, was contagious.

            “It’s no problem. It was honestly great to meet you, we should totally talk again some time,” he motioned to the door leading to the hallway, “I do have a date with the curl up bars in the gym though.”

            “Well then, I would not want to keep you,” Francis stepped aside with a flourish. “Keeping dates waiting is never good.”

            “Nope, but I will definitely stop by again sometime- actually, are you doing anything on Sunday? It’s the club fair and stuff that day but I’m doing stuff for my LLC in the morning so I don’t have to stand at a booth like last year. We can walk around and talk some more.”

            Francis blinked looking stupefied. “I am actually at my own booth again this year, but you can stop by around two, that is normally when I pack up and leave.”

            “But it starts at one; you only set up for an hour?” Alfred asked. He tried to recall if he had seen the booth the previous year, but he had been on the Model United Nations booth until three.

            “One hour is generally all I need,” it was said plainly, tonelessly.

            “Well, okay, I’ll come over after looking around for a bit; want me to bring a drink for you or something?”

            “Or we could go out for a late lunch?” Francis walked over to his bag taking out a pen and a piece of paper. “I can tell you where the booth is and we can go together.”

            “That sounds fine,” Alfred took the slip of paper shoving it into his pocket. “I’ll see you then.”

            Francis nodded waving as Alfred jogged out, Alfred waving back over his shoulder in a final goodbye. Francis’ smile dropped and his shoulders slumped as the door clicked closed. Quiet filled the large space, crushing and imposing. He went to turn on the music again only to falter.

            He didn’t dance for the rest of the morning.

            …

            The rest of Friday and Saturday passed by regularly for Alfred. He went to practice on both days, blocking every shot kicked his way easily enough. He had a few bruises to show for it but it was a good kind of ache, an ache he felt victory in. His Truth and Propaganda professor, who had taught a few of his other classes the previous year, handed back his first paper via email on Saturday night. He had gotten a perfect score.

            It was easy to say he was in high spirits when Sunday rolled around. He had Francis’ booth information pinned on his bulletin board in his dorm room, a single room this year thankfully. He had managed to sleep in a bit, meeting on the third floor with three of the other LLC members in order to help with today’s event.

            Alfred had designed this one, which made it all the better for him. It was a scavenger hunt. All of the freshmen were participating in it, and many of the others were as well, so all in all it was a good turnout.

            By the time noon rolled around and prizes were given out he said goodbye to the others who had gathered for cake at the end of the hunt. He made his way to the center of the campus waving at people he passed until he found his club’s booth. Two sophomores were running it this year just as they had the previous year, one of them having been Alfred. He gave them a few pointers, wished them luck, and said he would see them and any new members on Monday.

            He walked around for about half an hour before he was dragged into a soccer game off to the side of the booths and tents. He joked around with his team members some of the freshmen who had only recently joined becoming even more at ease. The girls’ team challenged them to a game.

            At one, Alfred broke off from everyone saying had had someone he had to meet for lunch. He was met with whistles from his team and a few shoulder nudges.

            “Who’s the girl Jones?”

            “She hot?”

            “Where’d you meet her?”

            “No, it’s nothing like that,” he quickly put his hands up shaking his head. “It’s lunch with a friend, who isn’t a girl or anything like that, get your head out of the gutter.”

            “One of your U.N. buddies?”

            “They don’t meet until Monday though, someone from your dorm?”

            “Nope, his name is Francis. He is a ballet dancer,” Alfred began, words dying out as he saw the other’s looks. They looked surprised, yes, but also disgusted.

            “Oh, that’s-”

            “You’re gay?”

            “Wait, what the fuck, you’re a damn fag?”

            Alfred took a step back at the complete 180 the others seemed to take. He wasn’t the only one, but the majority of the team seemed to be jeering at him.

            “What? I don’t see how me having lunch with someone else who happens to be a guy makes me gay, and what’s with the derogatory language, are you in middle school?” he quickly got defensive not only of himself but of Francis, the other man was nothing but friendly to him.

            “Listen,” the team captain, Adrian, placed a hand on Alfred’s shoulder, “You remember Braginsky? He transferred out halfway through last semester?”

            “Yes, of course I do,” and Alfred did, Ivan had been a hulking menace. He was pleasant to be around and incredibly smart, Alfred had approached him at once point and gotten him to join the Model U.N. after they got into a debate in their shared humanities class.

            But he was dangerous and could hold a grudge. Alfred learned that the hard way after getting into a fist fight with the guy and thus became pegged as “Ivan Braginsky’s Number One Nemesis,” by none other than the man himself.

            “He transferred out because of what happened between him and Francis Bonnefoy, didn’t you hear about that?” he asked looking surprised when Alfred shook his head no.

            “You know I don’t listen to gossip.”

            “Well, he was found blowing Francis in the bathroom at one of the frat parties about a month before winter break. They had apparently been secretly dating for two months before everyone found out. Francis, who was the head of the ballet club and a junior at the time, had already been under flack for calling out a whole bunch of other guys for, and I am quoting here, being abusive and sexist towards some of the girls,” Adrian rolled his eyes, Alfred said nothing. “His club basically fell off the face of the earth because no one wanted to be a part of it, but Braginsky couldn’t deal with the repercussions of his actions and ended up transferring. Bonnefoy didn’t but as far as I know no one even talks to him anymore, which makes complete sense seeing as how he’s a flaming fucking fag.”

            The others laughed at the last part adding in more jeers and insults.

            “I mean, the guy is a ballet dancer and wears the same shit my girlfriend does minus the skirts, his hair is long and always kept back in a bun, and I am pretty sure he wears makeup.”

            Alfred’s fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening as the other went on.

            “I’m telling you this so you don’t get mixed up into something that doesn’t even involve you, I mean, shit dude, you’re the star of the team,” he received a slap on the shoulder. “I don’t want you to be grouped with Bonnefoy.”

            Alfred didn’t know what to say at first. No one came forward to say anything. Laughter filled his ears. White filled his vision.

            “Who the fuck are you to say any of this about Francis?” he finally exploded face going red. “You homophobic mother fucker-” he cut himself off realization dawning on him.

            His conversation with Francis on Friday, how had he not seen it?

            _I am simply not used to having company._

            _I am actually at my own booth again this year._

_One hour is generally all I need._

            He was alone, always alone. Everyone had left him, previously friends or not, because of one general thing. Because of his personal life, because of how he dressed, because of how he looked; because he was Francis Bonnefoy, the man who had been caught with his dick down another man’s throat.

            “No, no, I’m not going to stand here and listen to this. You need to evaluate how you treat others, all of you,” and with that Alfred left, rage still making his limbs shake. He heard a few of the others call out to him but he didn’t look back.

            How dare they? How dare they speak about Francis that way? Alfred barely knew him, but he knew Francis was not a malicious person. He was kind, had a good sense of humor, and was an amazing dancer.

            He was alone.

            Alfred made his way to Francis’ booth stopping a bit of a ways away. None of the freshmen were even trying to talk to him. He was ignored, the trophies and medals sitting out alongside photographs of ballet dancers in the school’s colors.

            They were from a year ago or more, the only recent competitions were for singles dancing Francis competed in himself. The man in question was smiling, the happy expression not reaching his eyes. No one had talked to him; no one had joined the ballet club.

            Alfred walked up to the booth anger washing away being replaced with a determination, with the want to help someone. He said nothing to Francis as he picked up the pen and began to fill out the clubs’ form so he could join.

            Francis grabbed his hand making him falter on his phone number.

            “Alfred, you do not need to-”

            “Bullshit,” it was spit out. Alfred was still angry; he was, not at Francis, but at the situation. “I’m sorry about everything, I didn’t know. I didn’t even know who you were on Friday until you introduced yourself. I swear to god if I had known earlier you would have had another club member months ago.”

            Francis looked shocked, beyond shocked, at Alfred’s words. Alfred quickly finished filling out the form before the other could protest.

            “You still want to go out for lunch?” it was asked as Francis blinked down at the form now in his hands.

            “Yes- but, you do understand this is not a club you can join and expect it to work itself out. You are going to have to work hard and while I know you are no stranger to fitness and exercise, ballet is something else.”

            Alfred nodded, “I know, I mean, I’m nowhere near as good or as knowledgeable as you, but I did take dance back in high school because my couch was a bit old fashioned in some of his practices, including the belief taking dance helps with your balance and coordination.”

            Francis nodded packing his things up, leaving the filled out form on the table for a few moments before grabbing it up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Alright, so you are not entirely blind in your decision,” he bit his lip adjusting the strap. “Where do you want to go?”

            “I was thinking the sushi place downtown, it’s pretty good and I practice my conversational Japanese with the owner,” he leaned in to the other after looking around, “He gives me a discount, but don’t tell anyone.”

             Francis laughed, slapping a hand over his mouth as his shoulders bounced up and down. Alfred grinned. The mood finally lightened as they began to walk out towards the front gate of the campus. Alfred directed them to the subway slinging an arm over Francis’ shoulders without a care.

            If anyone saw them, neither cared.

            By the time they reached the small restaurant, the mood was completely lifted, Francis having shoved the paper into his bag. Alfred greeted the server with rapid Japanese before the two were lead to a booth in the half full restaurant.

            “You are very fluent,” Francis finally commented after the woman had left with their drink orders.

            “Well, my mom and one of my half brothers are Japanese, so I grew up with the language,” he explained thanking their server for bringing the drinks so quickly. They paused giving their orders to the other before they resumed their conversation.

            “You have more than one half brother?”

            “Well, okay; I have one older half brother, Kiku, and a younger brother named Matthew,” he took a sip of his water, “Kiku and I have the same mom, she married my dad after getting a divorce from her other husband, who is Chinese. This is where it gets complicated.”

            Francis leaned forward in interest.

            “Kiku had a half brother, Yao, because they had the same dad. Yao’s mother died giving birth to him, so his father got married to Kiku’s mom. When Kiku’s mom got divorced and married my dad, she took Kiku with her and I grew up with him as my older brother. Matthew is two years younger than me and he’s in Canada for college, but he’s my full brother. Kiku’s dad got married again and had twins but she divorced him and took the younger twin with her, so I only know the older one called Yong Soo. He then got married to his first wife’s cousin and had two more kids, a girl named Mei and a boy named Jia Long,” Alfred looked over to Francis with a shrug. “So, I am technically not related to any of them but Kiku and Matthew, but I know all of them and I kind of consider them cousins.”

            “Oh. That must make holidays quite rowdy.”

            “That’s not even the half of it, oh my god. My dad’s sister, who lives in England, has six kids, five of which are boys,” Alfred dragged his hands down his face at the end. “They are all so damn loud; accept for Artie, who generally isn’t. Unless he’s drunk. Then he’s even worse.”

            Francis sat up a bit straighter at that name mouth agape.

            “Did I say something funny?” Alfred asked in confusion watching as Francis shook his head.

            “You wouldn’t happen to be talking about Arthur Kirkland, would you? Blonde hair, green eyes, has a resting scowl as his neutral facial expression and,” he stopped holding up two fingers to his eyebrows, “Has caterpillars in place of eyebrow hair?”

            Alfred nodded, “No fucking way, you know him?”

            “Know him? Do I know him?” Francis snorted, “I knew him all throughout primary school, that little runt. He was a rude boy with a stick shoved so far up his ass; I was surprised it was not coming out of his mouth.”

            “Pff- that sounds like Artie, oh my god,” Francis nodded in agreement letting his hand fall back onto the table.

            “It’s a small world.”

            “I guess so,” he broke off grinning as their food was finally set down on the table. He took the paper off of his chop sticks with a hum. “What about you? What’s your family like?”

            “Well, my younger sister, Michelle, and I grew up with our parents in France up until I was twelve and she was eight. I went to the same boarding school as Arthur and she was going to be put in a more local girl’s school,” he paused, letting his piece of sushi fall back onto its plate. “My mother got hit by a car on her way home from work, and my father sent us off to live in America with his cousin because we looked too much like her. He pays for both of our schooling and I get cards every birthday and Christmas.”

            He began to eat again, Alfred frowning. “I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

            Francis only waved him off, a smile once again on his face. “It is alright, it allows me to do what I want to do, as long as I get good grades in school.”

            Alfred nodded stuffing another piece into his mouth. They said nothing else as they finished their food, Alfred ordering tea for them both so they could keep talking. Francis reopened his bag, reaching in to grab Alfred’s filled out club form and a folder with other papers inside of it.

            “Which means being president and the only member of the ballet club,” he grabbed out another pen.

            “No, I signed up, and I am joining,” Alfred tapped his form with his pointer finger.

            “Alfred, you do not need to sign up for ballet. It will interfere with your soccer schedule. I am grateful that you would do such a thing even after probably hearing those unsavory rumors and such about me, but your team is aiming for the championship this year, right?”

            “Yes, we are, but that doesn’t mean I am going to back out now. My schedule will be tight, so what? I can practice with you in the morning and when we both have free time, technically I only need to practice with my couch because my team doesn’t need to be there when I am. I am only making sure balls don’t go into a goal,” he nodded, mostly to himself. “You won’t be able to stop me from doing this, I want to help and ballet won’t kill me.”

            “Alfred-”

            “Nope, I’m joining,” he didn’t let the other continue instead reaching over to grab his hand, giving it a squeeze. “I promise I am going to do whatever I have to do to make ballet club worth it, for both of us. I will practice day and night if I have to, in the snow and in the rain. In the light and in the dark. Even if I need to wear one of those big frilly tutus, I will dance until my feet are screaming for me to stop, and then some.”

            Francis went still eyes glossing over for a moment before he nodded reaching up to wipe at his face. He was crying. Alfred quickly moved to grab some napkins handing them over to the other. Francis thanked him sniffing loudly.

            “Sorry, it has been a long time since someone had been so honest with me Alfred,” his accent seemed to get thicker, more visible. “Thank you, thank you so much.”

            “No need for any of that. I am glad I could help and I am glad I could make a new friend.”

            Francis only nodded, setting the napkins down when his tears finally stopped. “As am I. It is time to talk business however,” he looked down on the papers in front of them, “If you are joining the ballet club, we will have to set up a strict training and practice regime. You are going to need ballet shoes and loose fitting shorts or pants for practice as well as proper tights and tops for performances. You are going to need to improve your flexibility, to which the extent I do not know, your balance, endurance, leg tone, parts of your diet, and overall dancing skills. For the most part it should not be too bad, seeing as how you already are an athlete, but it will be hard to begin with. There will be some days when you hate all of it, but it’s also very rewarding.”

            Alfred nodded, listening with rapt attention to the other.

            “We will start tomorrow morning at seven, if that is alright for you, and work out a schedule from there. I will have the proper footwear with me; you simply need to bring loose fitting clothes and that positive attitude of yours,” Francis finally finished pushed the papers that had been inside of the folder towards Alfred. “All you need to do is fill these out so the school will cover any medical costs if you get injured while doing a club related activity and we will be good to go for today.”

            “I can do that no problem, but why don’t we work out the schedule now?” he asked as he began to scan the papers, documents, over. He signed his name alongside providing information about himself and his parents. Francis didn’t say anything for a few moments, Alfred looking up at the other expectantly.

            “Because I am tired after everything that we did today and I would prefer to go do something fun instead of talking about that,” it was said practically as a whine, Francis’ bottom lip sticking out in a pout as he slid down in his booth.

            Alfred grinned with a shake of the head leaving a final signature on the papers he had been given. Francis sat back up and gathered them all into an orderly pile as Alfred motioned for the check.

            “What do you want to do then? Honestly, I could go for a bowling match or an hour at the trampoline park,” said as he got out money to pay for lunch. Francis moved to get his own to split the bill, Alfred shaking his head.

            “I have no idea what a trampoline park is and let me pay for my food Alfred,” he tried to grab the check to see how much it was only to have Alfred hold it out of his reach, placing money on top of the receipt as he stood up.

            “Then I guess I know where we are going,” with that he walked up to the front to pay Francis scrambling after him, papers safely in his bag. They once again set off into the city towards the subway, Alfred talking animatedly about what a trampoline park was and how much fun they were going to have.

            His arm was once again slung over Francis’ shoulders, Francis smiling only to himself about the subtle affection. He could get used to this very easily, this freely flowing friendship.

            He only hoped Alfred wouldn’t regret it.

            …

            The weeks quickly blended together for the two. When classes didn’t keep them occupied, sports, clubs, and part time jobs did. Francis helped instruct the dance classes the school offered as a T.A., while Alfred served as a T.A. for the American History classes. They had lunch together more often than not; the only day their schedules didn’t match up well was on Wednesdays.

            Alfred thought himself to be a fast learner, and while his legs ached like an elephant had walked all over them for the first two weeks of Francis’ training, by the time it was mid September, they felt stronger than ever. He felt proud of himself.

            He stuck to his new routine, step by step, day after day. It was exhilarating, exciting, to be doing this. The bit of fat he never seemed to get rid of on his midsection melted away. During practice, he watched Francis’ pursed lips go from just that to proud smiles. His routines got more challenging.

            He found himself becoming distanced from the soccer team. He still trained with the coach one on one, his performance never dropped, but he knew it was inevitable. Adrian had never actually apologized for his comments he had made, nor had any of the others come forwards to say sorry for laughing.

            They knew where he was going or where he had come from he was an hour early to leave or arrive. They won game after game, securing their place in the championships slowly but surely. Alfred didn’t join them during their after parties, or during the frat parties that no longer held any appeal. He would wave at the crowd at the end of a game, pose for pictures, sign some autographs, then he would leave, what was now dubbed his ‘ballet bag’ in hand.

            He didn’t care.

            He had gone to college in order to better himself, both educationally and as a person and as a whole. He thought joining the soccer team like he had in high school would help him achieve that path. He thought. eHe

 He wasn’t going to school on a soccer scholarship. He wasn’t in debt to them for something like that. He didn’t want to be around the team at all anymore.

            It was disgusting. The fact that nothing happened, that the school didn’t try to do anything; that Francis took it without doing or saying anything. The man was much kinder than Alfred could ever be.

            He heard the whispers about them. He saw how his team slowly alienated him, how gossip spread, how those in his dorm ignored him, stopped talking when he walked into a room. Heard the words of disgust aimed at him and Francis. Heard the rumors about how they were together.

_They went on a date in August you know, the sushi place downtown._

_Really? I thought they went to the trampoline park?_

_Oh, they did, after lunch of course._

_They’re the only ones in the ballet team you know, I bet the only reason he joined is because they’re dating._

_Seriously?_

            Alfred Jones, the newly discovered disappointment. How dare he make a friend with someone who wasn’t “normal?” How dare he be friends with someone who wasn’t straight?

_I never knew he was gay._

_Well, you know, he never said anything because he thought he was the only one-_

_And when he realized someone else was, he felt comfortable._

_Exactly._

            He said nothing. Francis didn’t want him to. The staff wouldn’t do anything about it. There was only him and Francis, Francis and him. They wouldn’t win against the student body. He kept his mouth shut and eyes on the prize.

            He learned more about Francis every day, as did Francis about him.

            Francis’ sister wanted to be a marine biologist. Francis’ favorite food was ratatouille, the kind his grandmother used to make. He had the recipe tucked away in his apartment. Francis’ favorite color was blue, like the sky. He loved cats. He wanted to become a clinical psychologist. He advocated against conversion therapy and victim blaming. He bit his lips when he was nervous. His accent would get thicker with sadness and excitement. His smile lit up a whole room.

_(Alfred’s younger brother already had his dream job while finishing his degree, he worked with animals on a reservation, helping care for them and make sure they were happy. Alfred had pictures of him with a polar bear that always seemed to follow him around on his bulletin board. Alfred’s favorite food was oyakodon with extra chicken. Kiku made it all the time for him growing up. Alfred’s favorite color was the pale purple that could be seen at the end of a sunset. He didn’t know what he wanted to do yet, but he thought he could be a translator involving localization. He advocated for the use of clean energy, for the halt of the rainforest destruction.  He fiddled with his glasses when he was nervous. He didn’t really have an accent, but he would give out little snippets of Japanese if he didn’t think. His smile could power a city through the winter.)_

            When they moved on to pair dancing, Alfred and Francis flourished. There was no awkwardness between them was they leapt and twirled and balanced around each other, with each other.

            Francis’ middle name was Élie. It was the name of the doctor who had helped deliver him. He had been dancing since he was ten, ballet becoming his favorite within two months. He looked more like his mother other than his hair which he got from his father. He kept it long because it looked nice, because he loved the feeling of taking it down at the end of the day. He had over thirty oversized sweaters, most of them from the goodwill seven blocks from campus. On a cold day, his favorite drink was lady grey tea, something Arthur had introduced to him once upon a time.

            At their first competition, Alfred got in fourth place, only barely missing a medal position. Francis got first place smiling and waving at the crowd in true joy. He had been right at home. Alfred had been smiling right along with him.

_(Alfred’s middle name is Fumio. It was his grandfather’s first name. He had played both soccer and American football all through middle school and high school; he chose to stick with soccer in college. He got his height and body type from his father, the rest was a reflection of his mother. He died his hair to a lighter color because he liked the way it looked with his undercut. He had several t-shirts with pictures of dogs on them, most of them sent to him by his family when they found them in his size. He loved to drink hot cocoa by the fire during the winter, with sixteen mini marshmallows.)_

            They practiced, they perfected. They got closer. They got more drawn away from everyone else.

            Francis was gay.

_(Alfred was Alfred, star of the soccer team, able to block any ball. He could have any one he wanted.)_

            It was their downfall.

            …

           In the beginning of October, Alfred had a lot on his mind. Midterms were coming up, he and Francis had their pairs competition in the middle of all of it, and to top it all off he also had a soccer match that would determine if his team would move on into the second bracket of the semi finals. If they won three more games, they would win the championship cup.

            It was a Tuesday. He arrived to practice an hour later than everyone else after spending lunch with Francis and after studying in the library for an hour after that with the man as well. The coach wasn’t there today, so the team was on their own.

            He showed up not looking up from tying his cleat laces when he felt eyes on him. His uniform was all in order, his shoes tied tightly. Alfred stood up to see Adrian and a few others waiting for him as the rest of the team did warm-ups.

            “Alfred, we need to talk about the game this weekend,” the other finally spoke up. Alfred nodded, still on guard, even if the other did seem to want to speak to him for a valid reason.

            “Alright, what’s the scoop?”

            “It’s at four o’clock at night,” the other began glancing down at Alfred’s other bag. “I heard your competition starts at five.”

            “Yeah, but I talked to the coach about it and he said our backup goalie could be in net in the last quarter so I can leave early. I already have it figured out,” he felt as though he had addressed the other’s question, moving to go out with the others to warm-up. A hand on his shoulder stopped him. Alfred turned around to see Adrian frowning.

            “You know what team were are playing against Alfred, their key strategy is to pumble the other team in the final quarter. If you leave early like that then we are screwed,” he let out a sigh looking vaguely distraught.

            “Wait, wait, are you telling me to not go to the competition?” Alfred look at the other with disbelief, watching as the other members began to filter out onto the field, sensing a fight was about to break out. “Are you telling me to abandon Francis after we both worked so hard to reach this point in such a short amount of time?”

            Adrian clicked his tongue, “Listen to yourself Alfred. You’ve known the guy for less than two months. You’ve been on the soccer team for two years. I don’t want you to throw away your chance at playing professionally because of one hobby you picked up out of pity.”

            “Who said I ever wanted to play professionally?” Alfred asked trying to quell the fury bubbling in his gut.

            “Why wouldn’t you try? You are an incredible player Alfred; I am only trying to steer you on the right path-”

            “You mean you are trying to make me stop participating in ballet and become an entitled homophobic asshole like everyone seems to be on this team,” Alfred cut him off, smile completely vanishing.

            “Alfred, what the hell?”

           “Don’t look so damn confused, I can see what you are trying to do from a mile away. Either accept that I am not going to stop and stop trying to make me choose between the team and Francis or you will not like the consequences,” Alfred was speaking loudly, bitterly.

            The others had stopped to listen in on the two.

            “Are you trying to tell me you are going to choose that fucker over your team of two damn years?” Adrian doubled his volume, eyes narrowing.

            “I don’t need to choose anyone over anyone else if you would respect my decision that affects my life, not yours!”

            “If you want to be a fucking faggot then don’t drag the team into it you selfish son of a bitch! You are giving us all a bad rep!” it was finally screamed out. Alfred made a move to hit the other, stopping and faltering once the words hit home.

            Adrian said nothing as Alfred stood there looking at him with a blank expression. The others realized his mistake before he did as Alfred kneeled down, unlacing his cleats. He took them off, then his socks, then the shin guards. He stood back up barefoot holding all of the items in his arms.

            “I understand, sorry for trying to be an open minded individual, I hadn’t realized it was still the twentieth century and you all were trying to be as conservative and outright intolerable as possible. I guess I didn’t get the memo,” he let them drop to the ground without a second thought.

            “What-”

            “You want me to choose? I sure as hell don’t choose this bullshit,” Alfred heaved his bags up. “I quit. Find a new damn goalie.”

            Silence followed his statement. He walked away back towards his dorm building not glancing back once the others had broken out of their stupor. He heard some of them calling out to him, maybe even running after him, but by then he didn’t care.

            He was outside of his dorm building when he finally got his phone out to call Francis. The man had said he was going back to his apartment after his classes were over to study and work on his research paper. The phone rang three times. Francis picked up as Alfred reached his door, getting out his keys while holding his phone between his ear and shoulder.

            “Hey, Francis,” he tried to sound happy, but his tone fell flat. He let his bags fall to the floor as he dropped like a dead weight on top of his sheets. He had forgotten to make his bed that morning.

            “Alfred, are you okay? Is there something wrong?” rustling could be heard on Francis’ end of the line as well as the creak of a desk chair.

            “I’m doing okay all things considered, listen, do you think I could stop by your place and spend the night or something? I need to be away from campus right now,” he sat up as he spoke looking over what he would need to bring over. He made a mental note to grab his phone charger.

            “Of course, meet me out by the front, I can give you a ride,” it was said quickly, Francis moving around his apartment in search of his keys.

            “You don’t need to come and get me, I can take the subway,” Alfred tried only to hear a tsking on the other end of the line.

            “If I get out to the front gate only to find you have left for the subway, I will make you sit against the wall for half an hour tomorrow morning, mark my words Alfred Jones.”

            The phone went silence, Francis having hung up before Alfred could respond. Alfred sighed before he got up throwing an overnight bag together. He made his bed, made sure his laptop as well as all proper chargers and text books were packed.

            He made his way to the entrance of the campus fingers tapping rapidly against his sides. His phone was in his pocket, he realized he forgot a pair of socks. He tensed when he heard the call of his name, he turned to look only to pale when he saw a soccer jersey. Francis pulled up in his car as they got closer.

            Alfred slid into the seat as quickly as possible fumbling with his seatbelt.

            “Drive, please drive,” it was a plead, not a question. Francis complied, the car speeding away before anything brash could be done. Alfred turned to look at the left behind silhouette breathing out in a shuddered breath.

            Francis said nothing eyes glancing over at the younger with worry as he tried to curl up on the leather seat of the car. Silence. Alfred looked up from his knees only after the car was turned off, parked in the parking garage underneath Francis’ apartment building.

            They walked to the elevator. They walked to Francis’ apartment. They sat down in the living room.

            Silence.

            “Alfred, what happened?” Francis finally asked moving to sit down next the other. Alfred took in a sharp breath, taking off his glasses so he could rub at his eyes.

            “It’s really stupid, I don’t want you to worry,” he began stopping when Francis slid his hands into Alfred’s.

            “If it was stupid then you wouldn’t be acting this way, now would you?”

           Alfred gulped shifting in his seat as the other pierced him with his eyes, deep brown, enchanting. He realized with a start that Francis’ hair was down; he had never seen it that way before.

            “So tell me, what happened?”

            “I got into a huge fight with Adrian today because of a conflict. The next game is on Saturday and I had planned on leaving early so we could make it to our competition. He told me not to go because he needed me on goal and I basically exploded,” he sniffed, his voice filling with bitterness and rage.

            “Oh, oh I am so sorry, we do not need to go Alfred, it is okay,” but Francis was stopped before he could finish.

            “He said I had to choose the team or ballet, I gave him my cleats and quit.”

            The following silence was swallowing, teeming with disbelief. Francis’ mouth dropped open for a second before it quickly clicked shut. Alfred squeezed his hands.

            “You didn’t.”

            “I did, and I would do it again,” it was spoken with complete honesty, Alfred’s expression finally softening. “They called you terrible things Francis; I wasn’t going to put up with it.”

            “Alfred, I am used to it by now. You have been on the team for two years, you’ve barely known me for a tenth of that time,” Francis looked pained saying it. Alfred frowned. “You do not deserve to be stuck with me, not when you have the opportunity to do so much with your life.”

            “I am not stuck with you, I am choosing to stay. Besides, even if I was, it’s most definitely not the worst thing that could happen to me,” he inwardly cringed. Cheesy, he was being so cheesy.

            “There is still time to fix this, I can drive you back and I can get a drop form for you,” Francis moved to get up, letting out a garbled squeak as Alfred quickly dragged him back down onto the sofa.

            “No,” he placed a hand on one of Francis’ shoulders his other going to tuck Francis’ hair behind his ear. It was soft, a glowing brown lighter than his eyes. “No, you idiot.”

            “What-” but he didn’t get to finish.

            Alfred was kissing him. Him. Francis Bonnefoy. On the lips.

            Francis went stiff with shock as Alfred pulled away, eyes wide with disbelief.

            “W-when did this develop?” he asked it, whispering. He didn’t want this moment to break. He didn’t want for it to melt away, he wanted it to be real, this to be real.

            “It’s been on my mind since I saw you smile and cry in joy when we went out to lunch four weeks ago. I know I sound like a sap and this is honestly pretty damn cliché, but holy shit you are so beautiful and amazing, and the fact that you put up with everything alone is complete and utter bullshit,” it came out in a tumble of words. Alfred’s hands cradled Francis’ face as he broke out into a relieved smile, shoulders bouncing up and down with laughter, with repressed cries.

            “I am here for you Francis, no, I am here with you. I promised, remember?”

            It was all it took. Francis reached up and pulled Alfred close giving him another kiss and then another. He wrapped his arms around the others neck pressing kisses wherever he could reach. Alfred smiled, arms tightening around the other as muffled sobs could be heard. Francis’ face was pressed against Alfred’s shoulder, tear stains making their home on his shirt sleeve.

            Alfred didn’t know how long they stayed that way. By the time Francis’ grip loosened, the sun had set almost below the horizon, lazy shadows filling the room with soft dark shapes.

            “It is not going to be easy you know, if they find out we are dating, well,” Francis wiped at his eyes sniffles soon following his statement.

            “If they find out then they can mind their own damn business, trust me when I say that. They can try to pull another Braginsky blowjob tactic, but it won’t work,” Alfred was grinning at his own words. Francis laughed shaking his head.

            “You know about that?”

            “I think everyone does, Christ, the poor guy.”

            “But that means you can give me a blowjob if you want, seeing as how he is not here nor is he my boyfriend.”

            “Sorry, but I normally don’t do anything like that until after the first date,” Alfred confessed. Francis put a hand over his heart eyebrows rising up in mock astonishment.

            “Alfred, are you asking what I think you are asking?”

            “Francis Bonnefoy, would you like to go on a date sometime?” Alfred asked the other with a bright smile. Francis smiled back eyes still wet from earlier.

            “I would be absolutely delighted, Mister Jones.”

            Alfred brought the other into a hug again, laughter filling the room. They kissed once, then twice, before Alfred fell backwards taking Francis with him. They laid there with giddy smiles plastered on their faces, Francis’ nose pressed against Alfred’s neck.

            “I have a wonderful idea,” Alfred spoke quietly hand coming up to rest on Francis’ lower back. His thumb rubbed gentle circles into the clothed skin, Francis humming in question. “How about we order Chinese takeout, completely obliterate our diet by ordering too many eggrolls, and binge watch Full House until three in the morning?”

            “You have Full House?”

            “Every episode is on my laptop.”

            Francis looked up at Alfred blowing some of his hair out of his face. “Is this going to be our first date?”

            “If you want it to be.”

          Francis sat up after giving Alfred another kiss. “Well then, I had better find a menu.”

            …

            Francis had sensitive thighs. He loved to smile and laugh and lovingly sigh as Alfred leaned over him hands and mouth working their magic. His toes would curl up no less than three times. He would cover his eyes in embarrassment if he was given too many compliments.

_(Alfred had sensitive everything or maybe Francis had a magic touch. His breath would hitch and he would moan without regards to volume as Francis peppered kisses and squeezed at his skin. His hands would clench into fists. He would hide his face against the side of his arm when his cheeks tinged pink feeling ablaze.)_

            They held hands in the library, kissed the other in greetings and in goodbyes. They shared a water bottle after hours of practice, legs tired, breathing ragged. Francis wore more make up to cover up faint bruises on his neck. Alfred’s weren’t as visible, for the most part.

            Were they accepted? No. Were they happy? Yes.

            While it wasn’t the end of their troubles, it was the start of something else far more rewarding. Alfred made a promise after all and Francis knew he would keep it. They were there for each other even if no one else was.

            They simply had to stay on their toes.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh yes, the Ballet!AU I ended up drawing and gushing about for a few days. Here it is, in the flesh. I might write a second chapter at a later date exploring their families and lives after all of this, but until then, this is about it. Thanks for reading, comments are appreciated.


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